


The Price Of Silence

by slightlyjillian



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Western AU. An old friend calls in a favor, putting Sally and Nichol in the middle of a mystery. But will the secrets that they're keeping from each other be more dangerous than the rest?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price Of Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alithea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alithea/gifts).



"I thought I told you to make them stay outside," she muttered, pushing her fingers into her temple. Sally Po watched the figures reflected in the mirror hung over the shelves of dusty bottles. The other men hadn't walked too far into the establishment, but someone had noticed as a hush replaced the shouts and calls toward the girl dancing on the modest stage.

"Aw hell, Sal. I gave them a supply list that should have kept them busy until next Christmas." Nichol turned away from the bar. He reached back for his tequila and finished it with one swallow.

Sally grinned. No one interrupted Nikolai Raskolnikov's _extra añejo_ without repercussion.

"Hey, Nikolai. We got to thinking that you don't want to be seen with us," one of the boys hollered, the blond one. He had flipped his coat to the side, posturing with his hip in a promiscuous display of his polished gun.

Catching onto the commotion, the man at the piano stopped playing. The last chord hung on like a death rattle.

"Now why would you say that, Alex?" Nichol retorted with a sneer. "Everyone eventually learns that I have a soft spot for the ugly ones."

"Is that what your mother said?" the shorter one crooned.

"She was a whore, Mueller. But he'd be proof she got some business." For all the banter, Sally saw that Alex smartly kept his attention on Nichol.

"Oh now, why did you have to go and bring my ma into this?" Nichol chuckled, remarkably even-tempered. He must have gone through the mill a few times on that insult, Sally knew. Before he'd started to ride with her, Nichol had been one of Treize Kushrenda's boys. That man had a habit of picking up whore's sons before the kids started getting the attention of the clientele. His tactic was common knowledge, so the OZ gang received equal parts respect for their skills and disdain for their heritage.

"I don't want any trouble in here," the bartender whispered to Sally. He'd started to purposefully wipe down the counter in her direction once Alex and Mueller had crossed into the tavern.

"I'll settle up with you." Sally counted out enough money to cover Nichol's expensive tastes.

"Keep it civil, lads." The local tin revealed himself to be at a nearby table. Standing, he put down his cards and pushed in his chair. "Your faces might start looking familiar to me if you don't turn and go back the way you came."

"Come on, my boys." Nichol covered half the distance to the exit. Sally followed. She hoped the young men had been so lazy they'd left the horses tied in the street rather than stabling them like Nichol had ordered--otherwise this might all get a little more complicated.

Alex put his hand along the gun. "Don't we get a drink too?"

"Not until you've earned it." Nichol pushed into the last few inches of Alex's space. Tilting his head toward the gun, Nichol added, "Is that a bluff, or do you mean it for a real play?"

Mueller growled, but it came out more like a wounded yowl when Nichol reached out to grab the boy by the front of his shirt. He also twisted his fingers into Alex's vest.

"And for all that you say you're the brains, Mueller. This was a pretty stupid move," Nichol spun them both bodily toward the exit and released them stumbling. He slapped his hands as if knocking off filth and followed. "We could have slept in beds tonight."

"I told you that we should've just done what he told us," Mueller said ruefully. Alex muttered as well, but Nichol silenced them again by shoving their near shoulders and keeping them in a steady march away from the warm lights of the saloon.

The twilight snatched away the heat from earlier in the day and Sally rubbed her arms. She hadn't even been in town long enough to take off her boots and new they'd have to put miles between themselves and the generous lawman. _Lazy lawman_, she reconsidered.

Even in the dark, Sally quickly spotted her palomino mare still in the place where she'd left the creature by the public trough. Nichol's bay stood nearby with his clever face already pointed their direction.

"You didn't even unload the satchels," Nichol bemoaned, grabbing each of the boys by the back of their necks and quickening the pace.

Sally noticed a series of rapidly moving bodies by the local law enforcement office. She pulled onto her horse and caught Nichol's attention. He needed to know that they weren't getting away clean.

"I know," he said. "By hook or crook, every time we get a break--it's spoiled."

***

When they finally stopped for the night, Nichol barked orders at the boys until they had a well-hidden fire and a few traps set up for any meat that might wander nearby. The horses were getting a good combing as penance.

Eventually, Nichol sank down next to where she searched through her belongings for her sewing kit. Sally wore slacks that she'd restitched to fit her more slender waist. She'd picked up another set of men's pants to replace her current pair and had been reworking them in her spare time.

"They mind me now, but I'm still not so sure about these two," Nichol said quietly. He crossed his arms over his knees and set his chin on top.

"It's not like you to give up," Sally mumbled around the needle between her lips.

"I'm grateful to you, Sal," Nichol said. "But they're not me."

She chuckled quietly. Nichol didn't often compliment himself, even if it wasn't much of one all the same. He'd never quite explained what happened, but at some point he'd fallen foul with the other OZ boys and it had taken a long time for them to get tired of chasing him. She'd crossed paths with him when he'd been taking shelter in a town where Sally had been touring with an all girls trick-riding troop. They'd both been pushing nineteen and pathetic at navigating the finer points of society.

In the distance, Alex and Mueller quarreled, the insects buzzed, and Nichol absently hummed the chorus of the last song they'd heard at the tavern before their interruption.

She would never have picked this life, but it wasn't a bad one.

***

At the next town, they fared somewhat better thanks to a few solid friendships. As if waiting for them, Catherine Bloom was beating the dust from her carpets when Sally and her boys came along side the front porch of her saloon. The greeting was followed by an invitation to Catherine's home.

"Those pants don't hide a thing, my dear," Catherine said with a sparkle in her eyes. "I swear I'm jealous of your lifestyle."

"It's not much to brag about," Sally shrugged, indulging in the company and trusting Nichol to corral Alex and Mueller until they behaved themselves.

"I see you're still tight as a drum." Catherine tapped Sally's stomach with the edge of her broom. "He hasn't won you over yet? Last time he was all moon eyes careful with you, and I was so certain that he'd get you with child. I made _bets_, Sally!"

Sally shook her head, "That's one bet you'll always lose."

Catherine pouted, but her nagging didn't bother Sally. "That's what Walker said. How he's always right about these things..."

"You should listen to your husband more often," Sally quipped. She knew that the pair had an unconventional relationship. Walker let Catherine run the business and he kept to his story writing for a newspaper in the old states. He had a quiet way about him that noticed more than most. Moreover, as a retired rider from OZ, he had been a good friend to Nichol over the years.

"No happy news for you?" Sally inquired quietly and the dimmed light in Catherine's eyes were answer enough. They didn't talk about children after that.

***

The family table was full that evening with the addition of Sally's group. Catherine barely sat still from keeping her ladle in hand for stew refills and cutting fresh slices of bread. The fireplace snapped lively with the constant new logs fueling the heat.

Nichol tapped his fist against Walker's near shoulder. "If you have to settle down, I'm convinced this is the way to do it."

"Twenty-four is too old to be riding all the time," Walker teased back. "You should settle down. What sort of jobs are there for old men like you?"

Nichol's jaw dropped without a witty come-back and Sally laughed. Uncertainly, Alex and Mueller glanced at each other before Catherine distracted them with her apple pie.

"Tell them about our situation, darling," Catherine said with sudden delight. "I hadn't thought to ask you, Sal, but this might work out well all around. We'd pay you..."

"What's this?" Sally interrupted. "I'm not sure our type of work is..."

"Silly." Catherine set her hand on Sally's shoulder. "It's not like that, and if you could stay longer... I'd be so happy."

Sally had to look away from her earnest expression to where Walker furrowed his brow. The easy-going man seldom looked troubled, and Nichol had noted the difference as well.

"It's not like anyone here really knows either Nikky or Sal," Catherine said to her husband. "It might work."

"I don't know if we should be asking them," Walker squinted at her.

"Fine, I'll explain it." Catherine sat down then and half-leaned across the table to get the attention of everyone. "You know the big house a few miles west of the town? Well, one of the founding families lost their original homestead due to a fire. It killed everyone except the youngest boy, Trowa."

"Catherine's sweet on him," Walker added.

"Like a brother," laughed Catherine. "He's a nice kid. Really quiet though and polite after all that he's been through. So after the gold-diggers came through town last year, they left a lot of California widows. One of them made it this far and, well frankly, she put her claws into Trowa. Well, that's what it looks like." Glancing at Walker as if he might correct her, Catherine continued unhindered. "Always shouldering in to be on his arm, following him around on errands, getting him to take her back to live at his house. It's just not proper."

"Is she pretty?" Nichol asked. Then under Catherine's dangerous scowl, he added, "Some guys like that sort of woman. That's all I'm saying."

"He hasn't come to see me once since she started in on him," Catherine announced as if that settled the validity of her concern.

"I don't see what you think I can do about this woman," Sally commented. "If you wanted me to rob a bank..." she laughed at Nichol's frantic _shushing_ while Alex and Mueller suddenly lit up with attention.

"We'll pretend we didn't hear that," said Walker. He leaned back in his seat while still cutting the last of his pie crust with a fork. "Trowa recently put up a notice that he needs help raising a new barn. He'd pay you and perhaps Sally could get a feel for what this woman is really like." He glanced at his wife to see if that satisfied her.

"If Sally says..." Catherine glanced at her hands. "Well, I'd have to believe it if _you_ said she wasn't absolutely horrible."

***

Nichol tore down the advertisement for extra hands as they rode west from the town. "A few days with honest pay?" He had a laugh. "Best not to let any of my old posse know. This would ruin my curly wolf reputation for sure."

"Just keep those two out of trouble," Sally instructed. "I'll have my hands full." She shifted uncomfortably to keep from pulling wrong on the excessive fabric of the skirts. In a few of the shows, she'd worn adjusted skirts in the ring. But those had been amusement skits. The real stunts of Sally's specialty were too dangerous for such nonsensical clothing.

"Catherine's dress looks real nice on you," he commented, suddenly bashful. His cheeks were as red as peppers.

Treading lightly on his emotions, she scoffed, "Never seen a woman in a dress before?"

"You'd look gorgeous in a clown suit," he replied abruptly and loud.

Sally's laugh was equally loud. It caught the attention of the man standing at the front gate. A sign over the main path read _Barton 2B Bitterroot_.

"Are you Barton?" Nichol asked, reaching into his pocket for the papers.

The young man lifted the brim of his hat enough to study their company at length. The stillness of his assessment was enough to make even Sally somewhat nervous. The stomping of Alex and Mueller's horses increased as the boys' anxiety drifted to the awareness of their mounts.

But Nichol's reaction caught Sally off guard the most.

"Why you...! Didn't you hear?" Nichol dropped from the horse and stomped forward. "Are you..."

"I'm Trowa Barton," the stranger responded, only in enough time to stop Nichol short of his destination. "I suppose you're here in response to the ad." His eyes flickered toward Sally.

"I hope you don't mind if I came along with?" Sally couldn't play the role, so she smiled in her typical fashion. No man would make a woman wearing skirts raise a barn. But she might get a chance to serve lemonade and meet the female companion who bothered Catherine's jealous streak so much.

"Who else would we be?" Nichol muttered to himself. He seemed to be reigning in his temper, but it was different than how he blew-up at Alex or Mueller.

"I'll pay fifty cents a day for them," Trowa pointed at the boys. Then he turned back to Nichol, "Twenty-five for you."

Nichol didn't move except to tighten his fist around the paper. He choked, "Why did you say it like that?"

Sally moved her horse forward hoping to take over the conversation, "Where should we meet you then?" _Not we,_ Sally berated herself.

Trowa noticed her mistake, but instead answered Nichol. "Take your horses to the first stable. They can run with mine, and I'll meet you at the framework for the second. Even you won't be able to miss it."

Nichol threw a helpless look at Sally. She gave him a half-bewildered expression of her own.

_This is the boy Catherine adores so much?_ Sally had to wonder.

***

"He's something else," Mueller said as they watched the horses go. "That guy is our age, right? Alex?"

"He's gone to school though," Alex replied, distracted. "Did you see his ring? Not only could he afford a college but he had the cash for the jewelry too."

"Nothing you can learn at those schools that common sense can't handle," Nichol interrupted. "Don't be impressed by some scholarly paper he framed for his wall."

"Mine looks like crowbait next to Barton's horses," Mueller moaned leaning against the fence post as he watched the horses greeting each other.

With a _tsking_ of his tongue, Nichol finally acknowledged Sally and said weakly, "Now what, boss?"

"Earn your salary and enjoy the honest work." Sally squeezed his arm. "Don't pay Barton any mind. I'll figure out the woman and then we'll be done with all this."

"Yeah, sure." Nichol accepted her answer and seemed to visibly relax with each of her reassurances. "But where is this supposed vixen?"

***

'Big house' had been somewhat of an understatement, Sally noticed as she stared at the two-story home. Catherine had told her enough that Sally knew Trowa had his home rebuilt exactly like the one that had been destroyed when he was a boy.

"Watch your step on the stairs here," Trowa said, devoid of the more obvious kindnesses a man might show a woman. But Sally noticed he had a sort of honesty that she might value over automatic courtesy.

"I hear he had been a very analytical child," Catherine had told Sally as their conversation lingered long into the prior evening. "The banks had a man who came and took Trowa's instructions like gospel. Most people wanted to see him fostered, but once the house was rebuilt, Trowa somehow avoided all of the local opinion. He hired a private tutor and a housekeeper until he went to the college. I met him only briefly before he left, and he came back different. All these years, he's never let anyone take care of him. But he's such a kind person, Sally..."

Trowa offered to take the wrap Catherine had loaned for the duration. The sudden loss of the material left Sally very aware of the low cut on the dress. She felt oddly exposed and hurried to look at her surroundings instead. When Trowa turned to lead her along a corridor, Sally yanked up on the blue fabric. It didn't yield much due to the laces which kept tightly bound around her ribcage.

"I have a few books in the library you might enjoy. If you read," Trowa said, practically. Sally looked inside to see that _few_ had been an understatement. Sally had never seen that many books in one place in all of her life.

"I do read," Sally said conversationally, catching up to him after the distraction of all those volumes.

Trowa turned slightly, giving her an approving tilt of his head. "I see," he relaxed somewhat. "Then you might enjoy meeting Dorothy. She prefers an intellectual conversation."

"Dorothy?" Sally repeated, curious if Trowa would give her more clues to his relationship with the woman Catherine feared.

"Right this way." Trowa moved to allow Sally to enter a brightly lit doorway first. As she took a step, an awful crash sounded overhead.

"What was that?" Sally instinctively reacted, looking up at the ceiling--then into the room as an elaborate chandelier swayed back and forth.

"Nothing," Trowa answered, but Sally hardly heard him as her gaze lowered yet again to settle on a handsome young woman in a black dress of mourning.

"I'm Dorothy." The pale woman offered her hand in greeting.

***

Trowa left to superintend Nichol and the other two boys. Sally drifted into a seat and watched Dorothy pour Arbuckle's into a floral, ceramic cup. Only when Sally sipped the coffee she had never tasted something as delicious in her life.

"Nichol must be doing something wrong," Sally murmured, taking another sip.

"Who?" Dorothy asked. On a second look, Dorothy appeared less perfect, but still had many charming features. Her cheeks were soft and full. Her long, blonde hair was pale and unnoteworthy in its decoration. Uncommonly dark brows danced with amusement and almost clear-blue eyes seemed to take in as much of Sally in once appraisal.

Sally's eyes lowered to the smiling lips when a memory surfaced to her foremost thoughts, _"What a horrible thing! Why would you do that to another girl?"_

Remembering herself, Sally set down the drink. "How long have you lived here?" she asked, keeping to her goal.

"Almost twelve months," Dorothy answered. Pointedly, she offered, "Trowa has been a good friend."

"I heard so much scuttl-" Sally choked on her slang. "So many rumors. The town seems to think that you were on your way west before suddenly stopping."

"Such forthrightness," Dorothy purred. Sally looked up in surprise, not knowing what she expected Dorothy's reaction to be. But not that. She couldn't keep Dorothy's gaze as it left Sally feeling more exposed than Catherine's dress.

"Don't mind me," Dorothy chuckled, reaching out to put her hand on Sally's.

_Take it away,_ Sally prayed, but Dorothy's fingers curled around hers instead.

"I don't often find a woman who could understand me," Dorothy whispered. "But I only have to look at your sun-deep tanned neck. To observe the way that you walked into the room as if you still were astride a horse. I only have to feel the callouses on your fingers. And I know so much more about you than you could know about me. It isn't fair, is it?"

Sally pulled her hand away. "What are you saying?" she questioned, with the bluntness Dorothy admired. "Why are you dressed like a widow?"

Dorothy leaned back with a shrug. She slouched into her chair with no care for how unladylike she must appear. Sally remembered a similar posture when among her friends... her former friends, relaxing after a night of wild riding in the ring.

"It's one way to avoid attention that I do not want." She returned her eyes to Sally. "You must do something similar. Those are not your clothes, although..." Dorothy grinned. "They do accent your assets quite nicely."

Sally swore, knowing that she had to be blushing as darkly as Nichol. "I do not like your type," Sally informed, with a lifted finger.

"I am many things that are your type." Dorothy rested her cheek against her fist, casual and slow. "Sometimes that's enough."

_I can see why Catherine doesn't like you,_ Sally thought to herself. _But she was far off the mark as to_ why.

***

"Barton is an insufferable fool who wouldn't know how to raise a barn if you threw a book about carpentry at his head," Nichol ranted. He had been saying much the same for the full duration of their trip back to Catherine's home. Alex and Mueller had taken an invitation to sleep in the servants quarters at the ranch. Unlike Sally or Nichol, the boys had been vastly entertained by and vocalized their preference for both Trowa and Dorothy.

"What about that Dorothy person?" Nichol calmed himself enough to remember their primary goal. "Will you be able to answer Catherine's concerns so that we can light out of here?"

"I'm still not completely certain of her intentions for Trowa," Sally answered. It did no good to explain that she had spent most of the day defending herself from Dorothy's advances. But a certain preference for bed partners did not mean that Dorothy didn't intend to become Trowa's wife or monopolize his inheritance.

"He's actually pretty clever," Nichol said, so quietly that Sally almost didn't hear. "I just don't like how he goes about things."

***

The next day as Trowa escorted Sally into the house, he apologized, "Dorothy said somewhat that I fear she might be making you uncomfortable. If you don't mind the heat, excuse yourself to check our progress whenever you'd like. I'll keep a shaded area waiting for you."

"I'll do that," Sally replied, thankful for the suggestion. She found Dorothy sitting crossways in the same chair as the day before. The younger woman was reading a book with a furrow of concentration between her brow.

"My best Sally!" Dorothy closed the text to smile brightly. "And today you are wearing something that hides so much I want to savor unhooking every link."

"I'm only here to tell you that I'm going to watch the men working... for a while... this morning," Sally fled.

***

Nichol made frequent trips to refill his canteen with water. Each time he rolled his eyes in despair, so that it was all Sally could do not to laugh. She found the banter between her friend and the owner of the ranch rather priceless. Not many people could scoop in Nichol so well without malice. Nichol could sense it too, which left him off-balance.

However whenever one of the boys angled in to give Nichol any difficulty, Trowa sent them to do something else.

Swallowing hard, Nichol gave a refreshed gasp. Sweat glistened across his brow and he had a rich sunburn along his ears. "Nice square of shade you have here," Nichol observed. After Sally nodded, Nichol asked, "Aren't you supposed to be watching you-know-who?"

He was right. Sally flinched. She couldn't determine if Dorothy was a chiseler by staying out in the yard.

"I know you don't like her," Nichol kept his words between them. "I suppose I could fake an injury, get in the house and see if I could learn something from her."

The thought of Nichol getting any subterfuge past Dorothy seemed of the utmost improbability. The shark-like personality of that girl would chew through his first harmless question and guess their full intent. Sally shook her head. "Thank you, all the same." She gathered the thick folds of the skirt and climbed back toward the house.

***

Dorothy watched Sally with subdued eagerness upon her second entrance. "How goes the labor?"

"Young master Barton is very good at getting across what he wants," Sally replied. She found a paper fan on the near by table and used it. The dress did not allow much ventilation at all. She almost expected Dorothy to make a lewd offer, but none came.

Instead the young woman stated, "In a country well governed, poverty is something to be ashamed of. In a country badly governed, wealth is something to be ashamed of." She pointed at the book she had been reading earlier. "I've been thinking about this. What do you say?"

Sally repeated the words in her head. "I'm not sure. Is it important?"

"Of course it is," Dorothy let her words drag long with emphasis. "It's Confucius."

"Do not impose on others what you yourself do not desire," Sally quoted, putting down the fan and giving the girl a fresh appraisal. "How do you know Trowa?"

"Is that Confucius too?" Dorothy sounded urgent in her question.

"You didn't answer me," Sally replied, easily.

"We're friends. I've told you as much," Dorothy supplied rapidly. "What did you mean when you said that?"

Sally put her fingers to her lips. "Oh, how unexpected." Sally realized something. "I think I've had things quite backward." Dorothy's behavior was too bold. But the girl was also clever. She judged Sally in one glance and accurately. So everything after that moment had been done intentionally, to deceive and distract.

For the first time, Dorothy seemed undone. "I think you've been in the sun too long. You must lie down..."

"I think the fresh air unclouded my thinking," Sally shook her head. "And if Nichol hadn't sent me back here to try again... what is happening in this house, Dorothy?"

"I thought you said you had it figured out," the girl replied bitterly. The acting from before left her and the grinning lips more accurately drooped into a frown. But Sally didn't mean to make the girl unhappy.

"You were dishonest with me before," Sally pointed out. "But it's because of something very important, am I right? Is Trowa in trouble? Or in some sort of danger?"

Dorothy tried to make her inner thoughts unreachable, but the stillness of her face alone betrayed the effort to hide something.

"He's going to be so disappointed in me," Dorothy whispered.

***

"I'm awful sorry. She guessed," Dorothy apologized to Trowa. The young man joined the women at her insistence leaving the others to rest by the construction.

"You came here because Catherine asked you to check on me?" Trowa repeated, considering Sally's explanation.

"She was worried that Dorothy might take advantage of you," Sally nodded, encouraged to be open once she determined that the young woman considered Trowa a true friend. "But I need something to tell her, and..." Sally glanced at the ceiling. "I want to know what you're hiding."

"I went to school," Trowa said, brief and exact. "Given my interest in engineering and machinery, I thought for a time I would connect myself to the railroad. I'm sure you're familiar with the trains."

"I am," Sally supplied.

"Have you ever seen how they put down the rails?" Trowa continued. "Clearing the path is... dangerous, to say the least. I became friends with a man from China who contributed valuable knowledge from his homeland to supplement... no, improve on what we were already doing."

"His name is Wufei," Dorothy said from her place near Trowa's side. She had her fingers around his arm. and Sally saw the posture that concerned Catherine. However, the ties that existed between these two young people were of a very different sort. "I knew Trowa from his time at school and then met Wufei. He's... important to me."

Trowa explained, "The boss at his site didn't appreciate how much attention I was giving Wufei or his growing attachment to a young heiress..."

"They meant to lynch him," Dorothy fumed. "He didn't do anything wrong. It was a mad setup"

"Regardless, we couldn't do anything but hide him away at that point. So I brought him here, to my home."

"And I wasn't going to abandon him either. Whatever I had to do, I would do it," Dorothy insisted. She frowned, dropping her eyes. "I'm sorry about before. It was desperate..."

Trowa's impassive expression broke then. "Sally, too many people don't understand each other these days. I couldn't think of anything else to do but hide..."

Warmed with compassion, Sally made the boy hug her. "I'll help in whatever way I can."

***

"So you're telling me that you think Barton's as fine as cream gravy?" Bone-tired from the labor, Nichol had let his horse lag behind, but doubled fast to ride parallel to Sally after her announcement. He peered at her with no small measure of skepticism.

"Yes," Sally said as if the matter were settled.

"What happened, Sal? You don't just flip your opinions without good reason."

"Sure I do," Sally teased. "_We're_ friends. Remember?"

"Good reason to," Nichol sighed heavily. "But whatever you talked about, Barton was all smiles afterward. He even started patting my shoulder and saying 'good job' which was more... plain weird. Even Alex and Mueller were commenting on it."

"Maybe we can console Catherine by telling her that the adopted, younger brother isn't being seduced by a bunko artist because instead," Sally leaned sideways to whisper, "He's being lured in by you."

"You have the worst sense of humor," Nichol recoiled.

"Who says I'm wrong?"

"Sal..." he retorted, limply.

***

The next morning, Sally found herself enjoying a very lively and refreshing conversation with the true face of Dorothy Catalonia. The girl still had a snappy sense of humor, but it no longer was laced with veiled threats.

"So you did the stunt riding for how many years?" Dorothy asked, sore and out of breath from a good laugh.

Sally considered her answer. "Fourteen to nineteen. Then I met Nichol. It's a lot easier to navigate this world with a man to set in front of you. They're too distracted wondering about him to notice what you're up to in the meantime."

Dorothy pushed her lips together. "Trowa said he doesn't mind. He knows that I don't like putting him in a bad situation."

Sally stared, a warning chill descended with a thought she had never considered before. "Do you know what Trowa would be doing if he wasn't watching out for you and the other person?"

"Well after what happened, Trowa said he wasn't going back to the railroad unless he could make a difference for the Chinese workers. First, he wants to see Wufei and I somewhere settled and safe. It tears Wufei up, you know. He's very honorable, but he can't hide who he is as easily as Trowa can.

"What about you?" Dorothy reciprocated. "I suppose you know what it's like to have this sort of friendship. With Nichol, I mean."

Sally didn't answer and hated that she smiled. Something inside her twisted in regret.

***

"Hey Sal," Nichol wiped his face with the bandanna he wore around his neck. They'd finished the walls and had most of the roof put together. He took the water she offered and after he noticed her staring, tried to find a weary smile for her. "What's going on? Are you having a good time with Dorothy? Because as soon as you want to put on those man pants of yours and lend a hand..."

"You know I love you right?" Sally interrupted.

"Ah, what?" Nichol was always easy to surprise, but at that he seemed absolutely stumped. She remembered the bravado he'd displayed the first time the two of them had to cut tail and run from a bad situation. Even his thin confidence had encouraged her--both of them barely adults and already struggling to find something good out of worse circumstances.

"However you want me to say it," Sally continued. She had figured he would misunderstand, but that didn't mean she shouldn't let him know. Somewhat of Dorothy's frankness with Trowa had stung Sally. "I don't just ride with you because it's convenient. Or because I can use you and boss you around."

"Gee whiz." Nichol tried and failed to keep his hand away when she held it. "You can be so confusing."

"You'd tell me if you wanted something, right?" Sally asked. She didn't know how important the question was, except that she needed to reciprocate.

"I want you to stop this," he said. He was unhappy, but Sally thought he understood her all the same. "It's not like I ever do anything I don't want to do. So don't worry about it."

Sally chuckled, "Oh, you would make this difficult."

Nichol did win his hand back then, Rubbing it absently, he lifted his chin into the distance. "Look over there. That never is good. Do you think they caught onto the boys again?"

Sally turned and saw the dust cloud of a few dozen men riding fast on horses. Coming in their direction.

***

"Hey, Barton," Nichol hollered. He outpaced Sally who felt disoriented and ill at the sight of the unexpected posse. "I hate to do this to you, but think we could bail out for the day?"

Sally caught up just as Nichol was trying to explain he wanted to hold up construction for a day. "It's not like that," she interrupted. "A group of man are on their way here."

"How many?" Trowa's eyes flitted between the two of them and the different stories. Of course, they hadn't been completely honest with Nichol about the full situation either.

"They might be here because of Alex and Mueller," Sally admitted. If she were honest, maybe Trowa would do the same for Nichol. But that wasn't her secret to reveal.

"Sal," Nichol protested. "You were the one who wanted to watch over those kids..."

"I trust Nichol," Sally hurried. "We can trust him, you know that." She glanced at Trowa again. _Please,_ she thought hard.

"Or maybe they're here because of something different altogether."

Sally whirled at the sound of Alex's voice. The blonde man and Mueller were only a few steps away. She remembered the first time she'd seen them. Young and desperate and reminding her of what it'd been like when she and Nichol had first started out. Hungry. Cold. Afraid to trust anyone again. She'd not wanted to listen when Nichol repeated to her what crimes the boys had committed. She had believed in second chances more than anything.

But she'd believed in them _because_ of how much she'd needed Nichol in order to accomplish hers. She had wanted to start over. And he'd believed in her.

"Fellas," Nichol said. "I think we should get along, don't you?"

"Nah," Alex crossed his arms. "I'm pretty sure that we're just fine."

"What's going on?" Trowa turned to Sally.

"Don't ask her," Mueller groaned. "Ask _us_. We're better than fifty cents, mister. We might have seen something in the night after you thought we'd gone to bunk. Maybe a fugitive pacing the window?"

"What?" Nichol scoffed.

"Of course, the reward was only five thousand. We figured that you'd pay more than that for Alex and I to go meet the gentlemen there and tell them that their person of interest was last seen heading... oh, I dunno. To the Far East?"

Trowa swore, which made Nichol look fast with something like enlightenment on his face.

Sally watched the men hesitate at the bottom of the main path at the gate to the ranch. They would see Trowa and come here first. But what to do?

"You'd better pay these two to be quiet," Nichol spoke when no one else did.

***

"I'm not angry, Sal. Stop looking at me like that," protested Nichol as they watched Alex and Mueller meet up with the law enforcement. He grumbled in his chest then said mockingly, "Oh very sorry, officers. We just made a horrible mistake. All we saw was Barton in women's clothing..."

Sally didn't laugh. He didn't mean it to be funny.

"What do I do now?" Trowa said to no one in particular. "Eventually, someone is going to connect Dorothy to the person-of-interest from the railroad. I can pay off two rips, but a bounty hunter?"

"I know someone," Nichol said, plain and simple. "She'll take them both in. I daresay she will not only protect your man but also get him and Dorothy some credibility to do things on their own."

"Nichol?" Sally looked at him, surprised. "Who could do that?"

He closed his eyes and pinched his nose. "Someone I'd rather not owe a favor, but it can't be helped."

"Perhaps we can contact her through more covert means?" Trowa brightened immediately. "I'm not without some resources."

***

"I don't know how you did it, but I can never thank you enough for running that hussy out of Trowa's home!" Catherine gave both Nichol and Sally her biggest smile and embraced Sally tightly.

"Nichol helped," Sally managed to breathe out.

"Really? How?" Catherine asked in genuine confusion. They'd given her the happy news along with the announcement that they were moving on.

"I just worked on the barn," Nichol answered, somewhat agitated. "It wasn't nothin'..." He relaxed somewhat when Walker offered to shake his hand. "Good seeing you again, Walker."

"Likewise," Walker said. After a moments reflection, he added, "You're always welcome here."

"Yeah, I'm sure Catherine would like that," Nichol blushed. "Nothing like another man getting in the way."

"Oh, it'd be alright," Catherine smiled, giving every indication she thought the idea was a very bad one.

Sally recognized the nickering of her palomino. "Let's go before it's too hot," she suggested a way out of the prolonged farewell.

When they'd cleared eyesight of Catherine's home, Sally tried to infiltrate the quietness that had fallen over them ever since Alex and Mueller's betrayal. "Does it help if I say that you were right all along?"

He didn't reply but kept watching the path ahead of them. Earlier that morning, Dorothy and Wufei had been collected by a private coach taking them on the same road to a new home on the east coast.

Sally continued, "You were right that those boys were trouble. I'm lucky the fall out only cost Trowa some cash, because they wouldn't have hesitated to join in the lynching party."

"You're not to blame any more than me. I thought I could handle Alex and Mueller," Nichol sighed.

"I should have told you about the Chinese man Trowa had hidden away. If you'd known sooner we could have called on your friend..."

"She's not my friend!" Nichol's hasty correction still made Sally curious.

"Sounds like an interesting story."

She waited. The path took them along the outside of the town which was just as well. She didn't want to have to deal with any other people for several days at least. A dog ran along side of the horses briefly before bounding after a rabbit in the bush.

Nichol began, "I met Christine Une when Treize took me with him to the cities out east. I was eighteen, so not much before you and I met. I didn't know they had an arrangement, because I thought she really liked me."

"What kind of person was she?" Sally asked, innocently. Still she was rather surprised by his angry retort.

"Your kind," he grumbled. "So think how I felt when I met you. Every girl that I'm actually interested in..."

Sally tried not to laugh. "That's bad luck..."

"I didn't want to hate you because of it though. I thought if we could be friends, it meant that I hadn't really done anything only because of that..." He wilted in the saddle somewhat.

"I don't know what you're saying," Sally admitted. "Just tell me what happened."

"She was so confusing." Nichol squinted as he looked up at the clouds. "Always asking me to do things for her, like we were courting or something. Then when I thought to marry her, I found her with someone... another girl. It was very embarrassing. To make it worse, she was married to Treize already!"

"That's... unexpected," Sally consoled. "She shouldn't have hid that from you."

"Well, she's not the only person to keep secrets from me," he tried to laugh. "I trusted her. Then I hated her. And so I made this plan."

"What sort of plan?"

"To ruin her... but it backfired and she almost got killed."

"And then you ran away to meet up with a dumb girl named Sally."

"Something like that," Nichol chuckled. "But you weren't dumb. You were cute."

"Ah, I see. So you were kind to me to make up for what had happened?" Sally reached over to pinch his sleeve.

Dismissively, he said, "I would have been kind to you anyway."

"And you would have risked reconnecting with her to help Trowa's friends?" Sally followed the pattern, then she exclaimed, "You could have been in danger?"

"Eh," Nichol rubbed his head. "Not exactly. OZ said they'd take me back. Apparently, she forgave me."

"What? You didn't go?" Sally was genuinely surprised. "And you didn't tell me? Nevermind..." She could let him have one secret forgiven... and the idea that the people in his life had decided to accept him again, even after his mistakes. Could that be possible?

"So what do we do now, Sally?"

She considered. They'd taken the west path and on the hill in the distance was the big house where she'd spent the past several days unraveling her oldest secrets to find them different than she remembered them.

"I'm not sure. What do you want, Nikky?"

He tilted his head. "I think I want to stay here." Nichol pointed his thumb at the _Barton 2B Bitterroot_ sign. He pulled the bay to stop although Sally let the palomino continue a few lengths to put distance between them.

_So you're choosing him?_ Sally didn't ask, because she didn't want him to second guess for her benefit. "I see," she said. "Okay."

"What'll you do, Sal?" he sounded nervous, as if doubts had already clouded his instinct.

"I might volunteer a description of two friends to a good sketch artist."

They both laughed, but Nichol followed it more seriously, saying, "Be careful, Sal."

"Oh I will. I might visit the next generation of stunt riders. Or check on Dorothy and her friend. But don't worry about me," she reassured him. "I'm not the one fixin' to be next on Catherine's most wanted list."


End file.
